


To the Moon and Back

by QueenSabriel



Category: Old Kingdom - Garth Nix
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-14
Updated: 2016-07-14
Packaged: 2018-07-23 21:49:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7481265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenSabriel/pseuds/QueenSabriel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I don’t really know what I'd do without you."</p>
            </blockquote>





	To the Moon and Back

Sam had expected something different. He had thought that Orannis’ defeat would leave everyone filled with triumph and happiness and relief. Instead he felt tired. And heavy. And sad. Straightening, he wiped his hands over his eyes, brushing away tears he barely realized were there. A little ways away he saw his parents bending over Lirael, and the twins checking on Ellimere. He wanted to lie down. He wanted to sleep.

Somewhere behind them sirens wailed. Sam watched his mother and father helping Lirael to her feet now, her arms around their shoulders as they practically carried her between them. When they drew near, Sabriel met Sam’s gaze and gave him an exhausted smile. 

“Come on,” she said softly, reaching out to touch his shoulder with her free hand. “We just have to make it back up the ridge.”

Sam nodded and turned. He kept his eyes on his feet as they walked, but when the ground started to slope upwards he glanced up—and froze. Someone was standing in the space where the diamond of protection had left a single patch of green grass amidst the brown and grey; a young man with blonde hair and—

“Nick?!” Sam said, shouted, really, despite the rawness of his throat.

Nicholas Sayre looked up and blinked before his face lit up with a wide smile. He lifted his hand and waved.

Then Sam was sprinting up the hill, having tapped into some last, desperate reserve of energy. He threw his arms around Nick, clinging to him, resting his chin on Nick’s shoulder and whispering, “Damn you, Nick—Charter curse it you’re alive—!”

“Yeah,” Nick said, clutching at Sam for a moment. Then he drew back, and Sam could see that he was crying, no matter how much he rubbed his eyes. “Yeah I am…I…Sam, I’m s-so sorry…”

Sam shook his head, hands on Nick’s shoulders for a moment. “You’re alive and…and…you look like shit.”

“That’s a shade better than I feel, old thing…” Nick said with a laugh that turned into a pained groan as he doubled over a little, grabbing Sam’s arm for support. “Oh. I think…I might need a doctor…”

To that Sam nodded, wrapping an arm around Nick and guiding him over to where the medics had laid out stretchers. Lirael was already lying down on one, and Sam’s parents were close by. After he helped Nick lie down Sam turned and went to stand next to his mother. A moment later he leaned against her, his head on her shoulder.

Sabriel rubbed his back slowly and murmured, “Is Nick all right?”

“I dunno,” Sam said, his shoulders slumping a bit. “I really don’t know. But at least he’s alive.”

***

The hospital never settled down. As the night grew later nurses and doctors continued to rush back and forth between the long wards and private rooms. Sam waited with his family for what felt like ages, and then when his sister had fallen asleep on a couch and his parents had gone to check on Lirael, Sam got up and wandered down the hall to the room where a nurse told him they had put Nick.

He was reminded, briefly, of waking up after they had been attacked following the cricket game. The day this all started. The day that felt like a lifetime ago.

Nick was asleep, unmoving, a line running from his arm to an IV bag on a metal stand beside the bed. He had always been slender, but now he looked _small_ somehow, surrounded by the white expanse of hospital blankets. Sam bit his lip and walked over to sit on the edge of the bed. He had the sudden urge to take Nick’s hand in his, but when he glanced up again he saw Nick’s eyes were open.

“Sam?” Nick mumbled.

“Hey. Go back to sleep. I just wanted to see if you were okay.”

Nick nodded, closing his eyes, but he slid his hand over and poked Sam’s leg with the tips of his fingers. “Don’t go anywhere,” he said quietly. 

Sam touched his hand and nodded, then realized Nick couldn’t see that with his eyes closed so he said, “Yeah. 

Nick settled down into the pillow again, his lips parting a little. Sam watched him silently until a sudden irresistible yawn reminded him that he couldn’t spend all night sitting up. Careful not to jostle Nick too much he lay down on his side in the small space left next to his friend. Folding one arm under his head, Sam closed his eyes and before much longer he too had drifted off to sleep.

***

If the nurses came in to check on Nick in the night, Sam didn’t remember it. He woke sometime mid-morning to sunlight streaming into the room, making the white walls and floor shine like freshly fallen snow. He remembered vaguely something Damed had once said, about things always looking better after a good night’s rest. His sleep hadn’t been good, exactly (crick in his neck, his shoes were still on…) but it was _rest_.

And Nick was still next to him, very alive, backlit by the sun coming in through the window. Sam had been staring at him for a good minute or so before Nick opened his eyes and looked at him.

“I’ll admit it,” Nick said hoarsely, giving Sam a drowsy grin. “You were right.”

Sam frowned. “About what?”

“About everything. About your world. And magic. I’m sorry I was so thick about it…” he sighed. “Suppose I’ve learned my lesson.”

“Nick…” Sam lifted his hand, though he didn’t know what he intended to do with it exactly.

“Nah.” Nick shrugged. “It’s… It’s not fine but…I survived, that’s what’s important.” Seeing Sam’s hand still hovering uncertainly, he brought his own up, pressing their palms together, fingers matching. 

Sam, not sure what to make of the complicated expression on Nick’s face, studied their hands instead: Nick’s fingers, longer than his, his skin, darker than Nick’s, the dirt under both of their fingernails. The blood under his.

“You still have that scar,” Nick murmured after a minute. “On your fingertip. Remember? We were like, eleven and you were trying to wrap a present for your mum or something and cut yourself. You were crying like a baby.”

Sam let out a surprised little laugh. “It hurt! And I got blood all over the wrapping paper.”

They lowered their hands but Nick grasped Sam’s sleeve between his thumb and forefinger, holding on. Sam gazed at him, then after a moment’s hesitation he scooted closer and pressed his lips to Nick’s, holding the kiss for several seconds before he drew back.

The look on Nick’s face was unreadable. He didn’t look away from Sam, didn’t pull back, didn’t push him. But he also didn’t say anything.

“I’m just…I’m really glad you’re all right,” Sam said quietly.

Nick nodded, then rested his forehead against Sam’s. When their Charter marks both glowed from such closed proximity he let out a startled laugh, but still didn’t pull away.

***

_About Six Months Later_

Belisaere smelled of summer. Grass and flowers and sea water. Food cooking in carts down along the streets and markets. Earth. Animals. People. When the weather was just right, usually in the evenings, Sam loved it. He loved how the fading sunlight gilded everything in soft shades of gold. There was one particular rise of the palace lawn where he could sit and look out over the ocean, and he had been there for most of the late afternoon, sketching in his notebook, curling his bare toes in the grass.  Now he sat with his arms around his knees, simply staring out across the ocean, at the ships in the bay, most of them coming in for the evening.

Someone wrapped their arms around his shoulders, but before Sam could even begin to feel startled a familiar voice said right in his ear, “Hey, old thing.”

“Nick?!” In his surprise, Sam’s first instinct was to grab Nick’s arm, as though afraid that his friend would disappear. Turning his head, he looked at Nick with wide eyes, finally letting go so he could sit in the grass next to him.

“Lirael brought me back,” Nick said, running his fingers through his very wind-blown hair. Sam guessed they had only just landed. Crossing his legs, Nick continued, “I was thinking about what your mum said, you know? About me coming to stay here. I realized after what just happened—which I will absolutely tell you about in detail later when my head’s stopped spinning—well I realized…I don’t really belong in Ancelstierre anymore. This whole thing, it’s…” He touched his Charter mark, then shrugged and sighed.

Sam cast him a sidelong look. “So you came because of Mum? Or was it because of Lirael?”

The look Nick gave him in response was a very odd one. He shook his head, then reached out to absently run his fingertip over the back of Sam’s hand. “I came here for a lot of reasons, Sam. But one of the big ones is because I missed you. We were at school together since forever, I got used to having you around and…y’know, I don’t really know what I’d do without you.” He let out a bitter laugh. “Other than get myself into apocalyptic levels of trouble, I mean.”

“I missed you too, Nick,” Sam said quietly. “I’m glad you came.”

Nick leaned a little closer, rubbing his knuckles against Sam’s arm. “What I’m trying to say is…” He gave a little shrug.

They continued to look at each other for another moment, not saying anything. Nick fidgeted, then appeared to come to some resolute conclusion as he leaned closer, this time tilting his head to the side so his lips met Sam’s a second later in a soft, light kiss.

Sam closed his eyes. He waited until Nick pushed more insistently into the kiss to bring one hand up, threading his fingers into Nick’s hair, parting his lips and letting the kiss deepen so that when they parted Nick’s cheeks were flushed pink. But he was smiling.

“Come on,” he said, taking Sam’s hand and squeezing it. “I think dinner is happening soon, we should…”

“I don’t want to go to dinner,” Sam said. It wasn’t entirely true, but he didn’t want the moment with Nick to end. He knew it was a rare occasion to have the entire family in one place for a meal, but this felt too important. He pulled Nick in for another light kiss. “I really don’t.”

Nick smiled, widely, then ran the tip of his tongue over his teeth. “So, what then?”

“C’mon.” Sam stood and pulled Nick to his feet, keeping a hold of his hand as they headed back up the path to the castle. He led the way in through a side door, down a back hall, skirting past the bustling kitchens, up a twisting spiral stair, across another hall and up another stair, then finally through the door to his workroom.

Nick looked around the space, taking in the workbenches and the kiln and all the clutter, smiling the whole time. “This is excellent. I’m jealous.”

“Well, I might be convinced to share it,” Sam said. He bit his lip and leaned back against the door, closing it with an audible sound.

Raising his eyebrows, Nick turned to face him. “It’s also very private,” he said, leaning back against the edge of one of the tables.

Sam nodded, walking over to him. After only a second’s hesitation he put his hands on Nick’s hips and kissed him again. “I’ve wanted to do this for a really long time.”

“So why didn’t you?” Nick asked.

“I dunno I didn’t…I didn’t think you…" 

“What? You thought I didn’t fancy blokes?” Nick let out a laugh. “Sam, c’mon…”

“No I _knew_ that,” Sam said, tensing a little. “Nick. I just didn’t think you saw _me_ like that. And you’re my best friend, I didn’t want to ruin things…”

Nick nodded then and put his hands on Sam’s arms, pulling him closer. “You’re not ruining anything now,” he murmured. “Promise." 

“Good,” Sam said, leaning against him. 

Light kisses resumed, dissolving into heavier ones, then Nick hoisted himself up to sit on the edge of the work table, his legs hooked loosely around Sam’s, arms around his shoulders. Sam had one hand on the surface of the table, the other arm wrapped tightly around Nick.

He barely noticed the urgency building behind the kisses, or the way Nick’s fingers were digging a little into his back, or the fact that he was pressing their bodies tighter together. Sam did notice when an involuntary forward push of his hips sent a shock of intense heat and sensation through his entire body, prompting him to let out a sharp, startled moan. Then he drew back, sucking in a breath.

“All right, Sam?” Nick asked, his brow furrowing.

“Yeah,” Sam panted, running his fingers through his hair. “Yeah I um…I just…” He took Nick’s hand in his, squeezing as he tried to tell his body to calm down for just a moment. “I don’t actually want our first time to be…on a table.”

“That’s fine,” Nick murmured. He kissed Sam’s forehead and smiled. “Really.”

Sam nodded, drawing away and taking several deep breaths.

A sharp knock on the door jolted both of them out of their moment’s reverie. Nick’s eyes went wide and Sam instinctively cupped one hand over Nick’s mouth as he turned to look at the door. If it was a servant they would go away in a moment with no response, but if it wasn’t—

“Sameth?” Not a servant. Touchstone. “Sam are you in there?”

Sam coughed. “Yeah, Dad! I was just…”

In the second it took Sam to scramble vainly for a reasonable response (which shouldn’t have been so difficult, _really_ ), Touchstone had opened the door and poked his head in. There was a painfully long moment where he took in the sight of Nick still perched on the table, Sam pressed a little closer than could be easily explainable, hand over Nick’s mouth.

Then, in a show of utter fatherly and kingly grace, he said, “Dinner’s being served, c’mon you two.” Pushing the door the rest of the way open, he jerked his head to motion them out into the hall, then met his son’s gaze. “Your mother would very much appreciate having you at dinner. And so would I, for that matter!...And Nicholas, hello, good to see you again, you’re looking well."

“You too, sir,” Nick said, ducking his head as the three of them started down the hall. “Thank you, again, for having me…”

“Our pleasure, truly,” Touchstone said. He shot the pair of them an amused smile, not commenting as they fell a little behind him.

When there was a decent amount of space between them and the king, Nick leaned in to whisper, “He didn’t even bat an eyelash. My dad would’ve lost his mind if he walked in on that.”

“Welcome to the Old Kingdom,” Sam said, giving him a lopsided grin.

***

They had moved the workbench out from the wall, and brought another stool in so the two of them could work together. Their current project was, at Sabriel’s request, a working camera, though this was proving far more difficult than initially expected, even though Nick had taken to crafting magic with an alacrity and raw talent that surprised everyone.

Sam looked up from the pieces he had been trying to fit together and paused. Across from him, Nick’s nimble hands were moving, strings of tiny Charter marks sparkling like silver threads between his fingers. He didn’t even appear to be doing anything productive, simply calling up the marks and weaving them aimlessly. Sam lowered the pieces of wood and metal to the table and let himself stare for a moment; so often Nick’s face held a mischievous grin, or deeply furrowed look of concentration, it was easy to forget just how beautiful he looked when relaxed (though he would be the first to remind you.) 

“You’re staring at me,” Nick said, without looking up.

“Uhuh.” Sam rested his chin in one hand, grinning. Then he tapped the table lightly with one hand. “Hey.”

Nick finally looked up, the strands of Charter marks between his fingers fading away. “Yeah?”

For just a moment Sam hesitated, feeling the brief stirring of nervousness in his chest. But then the little smile Nick gave him drove that all away, and he said softly, “I love you.”

Nick smiled then, big and bright and sweet. He leaned over to take Sam’s hand in both of his. “I love you too, Sam,” he said. “I really, _really_ do—to the moon and back.”


End file.
